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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877383">Wiseacre and the Half-muggle Smuggler</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roboticways/pseuds/Roboticways'>Roboticways</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death Eater - Freeform, Diagon Alley, Gen, Harry Potter - Freeform, Magic, Smuggling, Thriller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roboticways/pseuds/Roboticways</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During the second wizarding war, along with Voldemort's second rise to power, Half-blooded wizards were in grave danger. They were being kidnapped, slaughtered, and tortured. However, with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. An underground railroad is formed to smuggle these half-blooded wizards out of harm's way, headed by the mysterious J. Pippin. This story follows Otto Wiseacre, a pureblooded wizard shopkeep from Diagon Alley, who works within the smuggling network. Will he fulfill his purpose? Come and witness the untold story of the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley.</p><p> </p><p>DISCLAIMER - I do not own anything that belongs to the Harry Potter franchise, nor have any rights that pertain to it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harry Potter, Harry Potter Favs, Harry Potter Fic</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wiseacre and the Half-muggle Smuggler</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1> Chapter one</h1><p>The blindly warm breath of a frightened wizard, colliding with the neck of an equally frightened wizard; it was the story of Wiseacre’s past months. Through the whispers and silent mutterings of half-bloods in a line, he could no longer pay attention to his own thoughts. The well-being of others, mixed with the sweat of his brothers, now that is the perfect potion of J. Pippin.</p><p>“Hold here.”</p><p>The line halted instantly, in total obedience. The navy milk sky, as pleasing as it was, would do them no favors for cover. Wiseacre looked to the rooftops in observation, he was awaiting a sign; a small stirring fish in shark infested waters. A tiny screech shifted his gaze. It was there he saw it, the beautifully coated snowy owl. Wiseacre grabbed the first wizard in line, a short, wiry haired intern boy from the ministry.</p><p>“We will need to cross the main alley at once.”</p><p>The boy nodded, and passed the message down to the next wizard, who of course continued the tradition. No less than ninety seconds passed before a petite, finely dressed witch hurried to the front of  the line, wand drawn.</p><p>
  <em>Nebulus</em>
</p><p>Wiseacre followed suit and pointed his wand toward the thick, pale fog that was collecting around the party.</p><p>
  <em>Ventus</em>
</p><p>The cloud poured around them, as if it were a miniature hurricane over an ocean, its only intent being to conceal an island. It continued its spread, enveloping buildings, and keeping it’s secret dear along the alley. The flow billowed, until the two magicians ceased their casting. Wiseacre took a deep breath, and aimed his wand toward the pathway where the snowy owl was providing it’s overwatch.</p><p>
  <em>Partis Temporus</em>
</p><p>The cloud obeyed, quickly providing a pathway of clear sight. The snowy owl clucked in triumph.</p><p>“Come quickly.”</p><p>Instantly, the line of witches and wizards acted. They scampered across the main alley, onto their next hideaway; like mice towards the next hole. The shroud collapsed behind the last man to cross. Wiseacre turned for a headcount, feeling rather pleased with himself when he gathered that all were accounted for. He beckoned at the crowd, pointing to a towering spruce door; one dorned with the enchanted iron of a Blackish Boulder Brute.</p><p>“On you go, wait in the cellar here. Your next tour master will meet you in the morning.”</p><p>The exhausted conglomerate of wizards and witches swapped their previously alert postures for something much less. Most of them carried on, slouched, disappearing behind the door. One witch in particular stayed put, the finely dressed, petite master of concealment. Wiseacre nodded to her in acknowledgement.</p><p>“Madam Malkin.”</p><p>Madam Malkin jokingly curtsied. </p><p>“Wiseacre, you mustn’t seem so overwrought.”</p><p>Wiseacre did not retort. He only studied the rooftop, where the mysterious snowy owl had been perched. His mind ebbed and flowed from negative feelings to powerful positivity. He was no doubt a player in a very dangerous game; Like a life sized game of wizards chess, though he fancied himself a bishop and not a pawn. He dug deep enough to limp out a convincing smile, and finally faced Madam Malkin. </p><p>“Now, now Madam. We have a fresh batch in the morning. Best to return to our homes.”</p><p>Madam Malkin nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Please, sir. Try and rest easily tonight. Many rely on your composure.”</p><p>Then she apparated, leaving a tight swirl among the still heavy nebulus charm. Wiseacre believed he saw fear in her eyes, for just a slight moment; A flittering half second. Madam Malkin had become the pinnacle of fearless witches during these testing times, pseudo legendary amongst the small resistance within Diagon Alley. When the second war had began, something had changed within her. An opportunistic spirit of protection had drowned the woman Wiseacre once knew. He thought back to the times she frantically tried to keep order in her own storefront. There were countless occurrences  she would shrink in the face of unrest. Though, she was very much a person who loved her peace, so maybe it wasn’t so surprising at what lengths she would go to preserve it.</p><p>Wiseacre focused on his happiest memory, his first day running his fathers shop alone. It was a day of wonder for many new wizards, who inquired him and browsed his stock with amazement. These, mundane things he never valued, brought so much joy before his eyes. There was also the sense of welcoming he felt from many parents, and older students. A feeling of acceptance to a society he had abandoned many years before.</p><p>
  <em>expecto patronum</em>
</p><p>With his whisper, and a flick of his wand, a silver glow began emanating around his body. A small stream broke off from its source and settled into his corporeal patronus, a lively porcupine.</p><p>“Inform J. Pippin that today’s work is finished.”</p><p>The shining porcupine took off in a leaping sprint. Leaving Wiseacre alone once again. He began to stride towards his shop, which was only a few blocks east. Being a pureblood, he was under no real danger to be seen in the alleys. He began to ponder on this mysterious J. Pippin. He had only known of the potioneer that lived centuries ago, yet, all of his instructions came from a J. Pippin. Was it a descendant? Had he achieved Panacea secretly? Wiseacre had never followed his messenger, he had only known to look for the snowy owl. He had only known the enchanted parchment, signed J. Pippin. This secretive wizard seemed to fancy Wiseacre, for reasons completely unknown to him.</p><p>A slight scratch on the cobblestone path interrupted his musings. Wiseacre observed his surroundings, though he could only see a meter or two around him. The nebulus charm still remained hanging in the air, dissipating rather slowly. His pace picked up briskly, Diagon Alley was still a rather safe place for purebloods, yet his paranoia was unrelenting. It took less than a house elf to know that he was working against the death eaters, even though they were ignorant to his betrayal. </p><p>Footsteps, more than one pair, behind him; no, flanking him. It was far too late at night to be just any wizard taking a stroll. Wiseacre began to feel rather humid under his robe. He clung to his wand, though it felt slippery in his grasp. The footsteps hushed as he froze.</p><p>“Who is that stalking me?”</p><p>There was no answer, only silence. Wiseacre slowly, reluctantly, began to creep back towards the path he was taking. Yet, the footsteps picked back up, louder than before. He drew his wand and pointed it into the dimly lit fog, only a few lampposts away from total darkness.</p><p>“Reveal yourself or prepare yourself.”</p><p>There was a chuckle, though, he couldn’t make out the direction. Then an answer, opposite from the chuckle. </p><p>“What business do you have being out this late, Wiseacre?”</p><p>Low, guttural, horrifying. It was the stereotypical voice of a Death Eater. Wiseacre fixed his posture, stood tall, mighty. As far as they knew he was just a shopkeep away from his quarters. </p><p>“I don’t see a problem, I was merely troubled with how business has been. Walking the alley always helps ease my mind.”</p><p>There was a pause, as this was a known fact around the community. It wasn’t uncommon for customers to complain that Wiseacre had randomly closed shop during curious hours of the day, for a walk. </p><p>“Ah, so what was the meaning of this fog? It overtook us rather quickly.”</p><p>“I was wondering the same thing, dear friend.”</p><p>The fog whipped away from Wiseacres face, replaced by a figure. The Death Eater towered over him in height. His robes flowed down his body, like a willow tree with a large quilt thrown upon it. He wore a mask, one that was frowning with misery, but with eyes that were very much thriving. A dark, coat of arms necklace hung loosely around his neck; of old pureblood heraldry. </p><p>“We are not friends, shopkeep.”</p><p>Wiseacre could feel another presence behind him, closing in.</p><p>“Are you suggesting, that I’m conspiring against the dark lord?”</p><p>“Im merely investigating…. A few mysteries.”</p><p>Wiseacre could barely hold back his fear. Here he stood, believing he was impervious to threat, finding himself at the end of two Death Eater wands. The tall Death Eater continued speaking, though it felt as if he was speaking at Wiseacre, and not to him.</p><p>“I saw your patronus charm, shopkeep.”</p><p>Wiseacre shook his head, his face could no longer conceal his secret. It was failing him, his own flesh! He wore a frown that grew larger the longer the inquisition persisted. </p><p>“Talk now, and do not make me use the Cruciatus.”</p><p>Wiseacre flinched. A soft flutter above was the only thing he was focused on. The snowy owl had appeared, roosting just above them, beneath a stone canopy. Though, it looked as if it held something in its talons. The Death Eater spat,</p><p>“No wonder, the lot of you miserable shopkeepers have happily served mudbloods over the years!”</p><p>The Death Eater raised his wand, and the snowy owl sprang into action. It screamingly swooped just above the 3 wizards and dropped a scroll directly into Wiseacre’s hands. Just as a stun spell slapped the air, he vanished, feeling the familiar pulling and pushing of a portkey.</p>
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